


A Lot of Pain

by VendelynSilverhawk



Series: Raise 'Em on Rhythm and Blues (Side-stories for Shiphard) [2]
Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Antonia Stark - Freeform, F/M, Genderbending, Not Slash, Rule 63, Toni Stark - Freeform, Tony Stark is a FEMALE, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VendelynSilverhawk/pseuds/VendelynSilverhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Bruce helps her start dusting, slow process that it is, and take down all the books to dust them, and while they work she talks about the lab she’s going to build for him once the mansion’s bare bones are clean. About how the garden will be refurbished, and maybe this can be a private place since it’s outside the city. <br/>	When he says he’d like that, she figures it’s safe to ask about Steve. <br/>	Pausing in his work, Bruce lowers his dusting rag and contemplates the gleaming mahogany shelf in front of him. <br/>	“He cares more than he thought he did,” he murmurs, still not looking at her. “The others will come around, with an explanation and an apology, but…”<br/>	“I’m screwed, aren’t I?” she asks with a sinking feeling. <br/>	“Yeah.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lot of Pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiphard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiphard/gifts).



> This is a sequel to "The Disaster that was me" and deals with Toni coming home. Again, this is a prequel to Shiphard's 3490 universe.

"I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.”   
― Haruki Murakami, _South of the Border, West of the Sun_

*

He finds her standing in the middle of the library, shelves upon shelves of dusty books and probably moth-infested curtains. She almost misses it- his entry, that is- because he’s so quiet, as unobtrusive as possible in every situation.

                “We got your message,” he says from his spot in the doorway, a good ten feet from her and her massive, useless pile of cleaning supplies. “‘Hi, I’m back and at the mansion.’

                “Toni.”

                She blinks.

                “I… I forgot how hard I tried to ignore this place,” Toni says, gesturing uselessly around her. “But I can’t live in a crypt, so I figured I’d try to clean.”

                “You have a bed at the tower.”

                Eyes that previously held vigil on the floor snap up to Bruce’s face, which is guarded, so guarded it hurts, but painful also in its earnestness. He shuffles forward, hands fidgeting like always.

                She missed him like a wound. The Guardians were too excited about guns, less excited about science. The urge to hug him is only tempered by the terrifying knowledge that maybe this time she finally went too far, leaving one of her best friends with abandonment issues without so much as a text.

                “What?”

                “You have a bed at the tower,” Bruce repeats slowly. “Actually, you have a _tower_. Period.”

                “You don’t…? I figured I shouldn’t come back.”

                “Maybe that _was_ a bit smart,” Bruce admits ruefully. “They’re hurt. Feeling a bit… ‘betrayed,’ I think is the word Thor used.”

                “I would’ve thought you’d be the last to forgive me, if that’s even an option,” Toni says. To her immense surprise, Bruce just shrugs, walks forward, and picks up a spray bottle and cloth.

                “I’d be a pretty lonely guy if I held a grudge.”

                “By which you mean you can’t be picky about your friends,” Toni smiles. “Even the selfish assholes.”

                Bruce returns the smile. “Yeah, that’s what I meant. Now come on, you’ve got some cleaning to do.”

                So he helps her start dusting, slow process that it is, and take down all the books to dust them, and while they work she talks about the lab she’s going to build for him once the mansion’s bare bones are clean. About how the garden will be refurbished, and maybe this can be a private place since it’s outside the city.

                When he says he’d like that, she figures it’s safe to ask about Steve.

                Pausing in his work, Bruce lowers his dusting rag and contemplates the gleaming mahogany shelf in front of him.

                “He cares more than he thought he did,” he murmurs, still not looking at her. “The others will come around, with an explanation and an apology, but…”

                “I’m screwed, aren’t I?” she asks with a sinking feeling.

                “Yeah.”

 *

 Which segues into the rest of the team migrating to the mansion, seeing her mission of Clean For Repentance, and the fallout that results when she and Steve Rogers end up together in a room for the first time in three months and start tossing around dangerous words like “blame.”

“Guardians of the Galaxy? ‘Space Boyfriend?’” Steve exclaims, crossing his arms and glaring daggers at her. “On top of abandoning the team, you-”

                His jaw clamps shut, as though he can’t stand to finish the sentence, and Toni doesn’t think she’s ever felt so small in her life, not even when she hid the fact that she was dying from Pepper. All of the other Avengers are either openly staring- Thor, Natasha, Wanda- or trying to pretend they’re part of the peeling wallpaper- Clint, Pietro, Bruce- and all wear some variation of a frown.

                “I know,” Toni murmurs, looking squarely at each of her former- that word hurts- teammates in turn before ending on Steve. “I know I left and it was stupid and childish but you wanna know what Bruce told me _you_ were doing while I was gone?” Her voice begins to rise and as it does Steve begins to shrink into the floor, all eyes are on her. She feels as though the arc reactor in her chest is burning.

                “Yeah, I flew away in a huff, but it is _your job_ to keep the Avengers together and what were you even thinking, running off to join Strike?!” She’s yelling now, face probably red, hair askew but when has she ever cared? “We can only afford to have one drama queen on this team, Spangles!”

                “Oh and that’s automatically you?” Steve yells, arms spread wide as if to showcase the shithole of a mansion Toni’s been trying to revitalize all day, which fights her at every turn. “You don’t have a monopoly on being a human trainwreck, Toni, and that’s no excuse-”

                “Well I-”

                “Friends!” It’s Thor, of all people, who steps forward, in nothing but dark pants and a red tunic, to stand directly between them. He fixes Toni a hard glance, which forces her voice straight back down her throat, and then turns to Steve, who looks angry but also, on some level, regretful.

                “This childishness has gone on long enough,” Thor rumbles. There’s thunder in his voice, always is, but it’s easy for forget when he’s plodding around and getting excited by human society and food. “This team began with both of you, together, and that is how it should stay. We look to you to lead us- what examples do you give us now? That we should fall into pettiness, let our personal feelings interfere with our ability to protect this world?”

                “Thor-”

                “Steve, you know I have great respect for you, but without you these past three months the Avengers are not what we should be. The same can be said of you, Toni.”

                She blows a strand of hair away from her face- it’s getting long again- and meets Steve’s eyes beyond Thor.

                “Look, I…” she swallows. “It doesn’t fix anything, but I _am_ sorry, and no promises for the stupid shit I might do in the future, but I won’t leave again, not like I did.”

                Thor looks at Steve expectantly, but Toni knows what will happen a heartbeat before he turns and stalks out of the room without a backwards glance. As she deflates, Thor puts one great hand on her shoulder.

                “He has been hurt more deeply than you know,” he says gently. It doesn’t help the ache that settles over her chest.

                “Th-thanks, Thor,” she says.

                “Friends forgive,” he shrugs easily. “It is good that we are together again.”

                That is the beginning of what Toni will later call, the Great Apology, which she ends up apologizing for, much, much later.

 *

It starts with dinner, and Steve’s affinity for pizza.

                Each of the Avengers have since split up, working on refurbishing the mansion at manic speeds to make it more livable. Toni figures that by the time it’s all done- at least, all that they can do before Toni designs a brand-new layout and starts renovating- they’ll be starving.

                So she tells JARVIS to prep her music and order everything she needs to make the perfect New York pizza.

                “With all due respect, Miss, the playlist you have given me is _not_ your music,” JARVIS says as she pulls on an apron.

                _“Mrs. Stark, are you quite sure you want to do this?” Jarvis asked, frowning but handing over the flower-patterned apron nonetheless._

_“Yes. You and Anna deserve some time off, and I’m going to go mad now that Howard’s off to…” Maria Stark’s hands paused mid-tie, sucking in her cheeks and scowling at the floor. As soon as she looked up at Jarvis again the unpleasant expression was gone. “I need a hobby between press conferences, and it’s about time I learned how to cook that marvelous soufflé of yours.”_

_“Very well, madam. Could you hand me the eggs?”_

Toni hasn’t thought about that day in a long time, tries not to as she smooths down the green and pink nature apron that hugs her stomach and hips.

                “It is now,” she tells the A.I. “When will the groceries get here?”

                “They are en-route as we speak. Perhaps you should familiarize yourself with the recipe, Miss? Captain Rogers has told me on more than one occasion that it is in fact impossible to create the perfect pizza.”

                “Jarvis, this is dad’s secret recipe, it is perfect, and pizza is not a difficult thing to cook.”

                Thank her lucky starts she didn’t let the place fall into complete disrepair- the entire kitchen is a bit outdated, but she last had it redone in 2000 so she can work with it.

                “And apple pie, Miss?”

                “Have a little faith in me, buddy.”

 *

_Six Hours Later_

                “JARVIS turn it off! Turn it off- shit!” Black smoke billows out of the oven and straight into Toni’s face, choking her lungs and sending her staggering back into the kitchen island, oven-mitt covered hands flailing to clear the smoke. “Don’t activate smoke alarm!”

                “The alarm is not functional at this time, Miss,” JARVIS says. “I did warn you that the house is currently not up to building regulations.”

                “I’ll install one a new one later, then! Just turn the damn oven off!”

                “Activating kitchen filters.”

                The gentle whirr of the fans set in the ceiling overtakes the harsh beeping of the oven timer, and gradually the smoke dissipates. Toni’s lungs burn and her eyes are smarting. Inside the oven sits the charred remains of what was formerly Toni’s apple pie.

                It’s her eighth attempt in half as many hours, after dishing out several pizzas of dubious quality. She’s just lucky none of the other Avengers have passed the kitchen yet. Every once and a while as she cooked, she had JARVIS pull up a holo-screen of what they’re doing, from Thor cleaning the roof, to Pietro speed-dusting, Bruce disposing of the sheets covering the furniture, Wanda and Natasha supervising the unloading and placement of new furniture Toni took the liberty of ordering before she even re-entered earth’s atmosphere, having known that she could not be welcome within ten feet of her tower. All in all the mansion’s looking pretty good, aside from the fact that later she’ll need to knock out one of the lower floors to make a lab for Bruce, put more bedrooms closer to the kitchen- which will be expanded- and probably a few other pet projects along the way.

                “JARVIS, how pathetic is it that I’m planning a reunion without even knowing if I’m completely forgiven?”

                “If you must know, Agent Barton informed me some time ago while he was ‘surveying the vents’ that the majority of the team is willing to welcome you back, based on precedents wherein your ‘childish behavior’ has been forgiven,” JARVIS says, and before Toni can do more than scowl at her charcoal pie, he says- “It appears as though Captain Rogers, while putting considerable effort into cleaning the library, will be the principal roadblock to your successful reintegration.”

                “I could’ve told you that,” Toni murmurs absently, pushing back her hair and briefly missing her long curls. Whatever _will_ the media say?

                “May I suggest the dumpster in the driveway for your pie?”

                “May I suggest you shove it up your-”

                “There _are_ still sufficient ingredients for another pie.”

                “Nice save, Jarv. Hey, call the pizza place, will you? Dad’s recipe can go fuck itself.”

 *

The house is done before Toni needs it to be.

                Like, an hour before she needs it to be. Which is why Steve finds her halfway through another apple pie, surrounded by half-burnt, undercooked, and the rare “just right” pizza, flower apron covered in various footstuffs, and “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” playing on the overhead speakers.

                He blinks at her, she blinks at him.

                “ _Don't sit under the apple tree_

_With anyone else but me_

_'til I come marching home_

_Don't go walking down lovers lane_

_With anyone else but me_

_Anyone else but me_

_Anyone else but me_

_No no no”_

“The Andrews Sisters?” he asks, and she can tell it’s for lack of any other response to the situation.

                _No I’m not cooking your favorite food, why would I do that? I don’t cook. I don’t like to be handed things. Flower aprons are beneath my dignity. Shut your face, Rogers I’m allowed to have a space boyfriend it’s not like we were-_

“Figured I should get used to Earth music again,” she says simply. Turning back to her pie crust, she keeps folding over the edges. Perhaps a little more forcefully than is strictly necessary.

                “Toni-”

                “I’m allowed to listen to whatever music I want, Steve!” She’s cutting apples now, _chopchopchop_ banging on the wooden cutting board because even if she updated the kitchen, she didn’t update the tools. “If you’d prefer _Metallica_ that can be arranged.”

                Her eyes are focused on the blur of green and red and her knife flashing.

                “That’s not what I meant,” he says, and sounds more confused than ever but not like he’s still angry, which is stupid because she has a lot to be forgiven for but she’s _working_ for it. Can he not see the pie??

                “Then say what you meant and let me finish cooking!”

                “That’s what I was _going_ say.” When she glances up his arms are crossed, his brow is furrowed, and he’s standing in the middle of the hallway entrance. It’s dark outside through the window. She tries not to focus on how the kitchen lights illuminate the sweat on his forearms from all the heavy lifting, the fact that he’s wearing nothing but a white tank top and jeans.

                “Why _are_ you cooking?”

                “Because-”

                _SHITOW._

She recoils from the cutting board with a hiss, thumb instantly going to her mouth before blood can get on the apples. There’s a mountain of slices next to the pie crust, and a bead of red on the cutting knife.

                That’s when she realizes the massive warm figure at the edge of the island is Steve, and that before the knife even fell from her hand he was halfway across the kitchen. Neither of them move for the span of time it taste Toni to register the copper and rust taste of blood in her mouth.

                Slowly, she grabs the towel from its place by the sink and wraps it around her thumb, which is still bleeding profusely, and pointedly doesn’t look at Steve.

                “It’s an apology meal, Steve,” she bites out. “Ever heard of one before? It’s where I spend six hours making food _with my hands_ because I know pizza and apple pie are your favorite only I can’t make pizza so I ordered it and I’m pretty sure my first three pies aren’t edible but you’re welcome to try the fourth- it’s out in the dumpster-”

                She squeezes her mouth shut and presses the towel harder over her thumb, stares at Steve like he’s personally responsible for each and every disaster that occurred in the kitchen today.

                Of course, her spiel was the moment the rest of the Avengers decided to follow their stomachs to the kitchen, so now Pietro, Wanda, Thor, Natasha, and Bruce are all standing behind Steve halfway inside the dining room and hallway, staring.

“Toni… you do realize this is a really messed up way to apologize, right?” Wanda says, looking concerned. “You don’t have to torture yourself because you’re _sorry_ -”

“Well, you know what, it was an attempt at altruism! And I think I did my best!” Toni exclaims, throwing down the towel with a noise of frustration.

                That’s the moment in which the doorbell chooses to ring, and a few seconds later Clint walks in with a towering stack of pizza boxes labeled “Di Fara.”

                “I think the pizza’s here.”

                Natasha and Wanda finish cooking the pie later, and serve it with vanilla ice-cream while Toni does her best to break her eardrums with ACDC in the ruins of her father’s old file room.

 *

_“Don't go walking down lovers’ lane_

_With anyone else but me_

_'til I come marching home_

_I just got word from a guy who heard_

_From the guy next door to me_

_The girl he met just loved to pet_

_And fits you to a "T"_

_So don't sit under the apple tree_

_With anyone else but me_

_'til I come marching home”_

Over the next few weeks, Toni acts as referee for team exercises (read: glorified holographic baseball or wrestling, which always ends between Thor v. Natasha or the Hulk) rather than participating, upgrades everyone’s suits, and won’t give Steve’s back for a whole twenty-four hours longer than everyone else’s. It turns out it’s because her nervous tick, the everyone-I-know-is-in-danger-all-the-time tick, flares up after Steve almost gets flattened by a crumbling house during a post-tornado cleanup in the Midwest. She doesn’t say it outright, but Steve’s a logical person and that’s all he can think of to explain her behavior. When Natasha tells him to let her be and let her make him an Iron Man suit for all she cares, he knows he’s right.

Of course, when he goes into her lab one night- she’s tentatively staying at the tower for ease of assemblage if the team is needed, plus, the renovations on the mansion won’t be done for a month at least- to ask when he’ll have his suit back, she throws it at him and says he needs to stop attracting danger.

                The straw the breaks his back, however, is when Toni suggests that they revive the short-lived weekend tradition of going out as a team.

                It’s been three weeks and Toni’s been forgiven by the team, each in their own little ways. Clearly, though, she doesn’t believe it- it took Pepper flying down from Tokyo and screaming at her before she admitted that maybe she could stop with the aggressive apologies and also that Pepper’s so glad she’s back she missed her. So when the team, all in civvies, piles into Toni’s permanent Avengers stretch limo, Steve expects the worst.

                That doesn’t mean he’s willing to talk her out of it, though. That would mean addressing the rather large weight that’s been crushing his own chest recently.

                _“I don’t have a problem with you telling her, Steve,” Natasha said, dropping down next to him to watch Thor and the Hulk duke it out while Toni hovered overhead._

_“I know,” he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “But how do you tell that to someone you’re not even sure you’re friends with anymore?”_

_“Don’t be an idiot, of course you’re friends. You’re the leaders of the Avengers. And you need to kiss or kill each other soon before we all die of awkward. This was a problem long before she joined the Guardians,” Natasha said conversationally. Steve wondered at what point in her life she had decided to stop dancing around the truth with every word she spoke and just be frank. He thought it had something to do with the fact that Clint hadn’t actually slept on his floor of the tower for days now, and Natasha started not emerging from her room until nine at the earliest, rather than the crack of dawn._

_“Yeah… what if I still don’t know which of the two I want to do, though?”_

_He knew. God, he knew, but it was harder than he thought it would be to tell Toni he had a one-night stand, even when he knew she’d been gallivanting with a new boyfriend for three months._

_“You’ll figure it out eventually.” Rising, she pressed a hand to his cheek, thumb rubbing up and down his jaw. “Or die.”_

Right now he’s leaning more towards “die.”

                Then they exit the limo and Steve’s staring up at a massive WELCOME HOME DODGERS banner capping the entrance to Yankee Stadium. Only now it seems to have been re-christened Dodger Stadium. As in, the Brooklyn Dodgers. Who are, apparently, playing today.

                “Toni,” he says, still gaping at the banner. “Toni, tell me-”

                “I bought the Dodgers, sold the Yankees, and moved them back to New York. I was gonna build a stadium in Brooklyn, but, well, Pepper said that was a bit ‘excessive,’ so.”

                “I understand that a great wrong has been righted here today,” Thor says, clapping Steve on the back and beaming.

                “Well-”

                “Come on, the games’ gonna start soon and they aren’t waiting for their new owner,” Toni says.

                They advance into the stadium and, later, Steve realizes it’s one of the funniest days of his life since waking up. Maybe so far, discounting the time Toni-

                _Ouch. Good memories still grate a bit, then._

Needless to say by the end of it Toni is disappearing into her room and Steve is confused and when their faces accidentally collide after a workout a few days later- Steve practically orders her to participate- he takes it with grace.

                And kisses her properly.

 *

“Peter was… stupid,” Toni murmurs, voice coming out muffled since her face is smashed into the pillow next to him. In the dark she’s all tangled covers and steel limbs, the short ends of her hair barely reaching the small of her neck. “I mean, he was smart… as much as anyone who calls themselves ‘Starlord’ can be, but he was a mistake, Steve. I’m sorry I took my shitshow on the road to space.”

                “I’m sorry-” The words catch in his throat. He just slept with Toni and he’s about to tell her that he slept with Nat. Which is a normal thing in the 21st Century. Which is a thing Old Toni is known for, and that she actively acknowledges without guilt.

                “Toni… there’s something I should tell you…”

                She rolls over and looks at him, and even in the dark her eyes are shining. He missed her.

                He missed her like a limb and he didn’t realize why the world felt wrong until she was back in it. But of course he didn’t realize it until he almost lost her. Stupid.

                Bucky would have laughed his ass off and told Toni that this was what she’d signed up for.

                “How many pretty girls did you let wink at you while I was away?” she asks seriously.

                Steve groans, cracks a half-smile. Of course she’s still looking at him like she’s asking how many people he got pregnant.

                “Well, she didn’t wink, exactly…”

                Toni reached out a hand and pulled him towards her, fingers wrapping solid around the back of his neck. When they kiss Steve can feel every lost day of the time she was gone.

                And every second of the night he spent absorbing the ghosts on Natasha’s lips.

                “What you did is between you and who you did it with,” she murmurs when they break apart, pressing her forehead against his own. “I _trust_ that you wouldn’t be here if it was a problem.”

                “It’s not,” he insists, but stops her gently when she goes to kiss him again. “It’s who it happened with.”

                _Before she can say something._

“I slept with Natasha.”

                For a moment he doesn’t think she’s breathing, then she’s pulling pulling him until he’s on top of her and there’s an inch between their bodies that may as well be miles.

                “You’re jealous,” Steve says between kisses, each time she breaks away and he can breathe enough air for his words.

                “Mhm.” Her nails dig ever so slightly into his shoulder blades, legs lifting to tighten around his waist. He can feel the possessiveness in the taste of her lips.

                “You’re not mad?”

                “One can’t be mad at freedom, Steve,” she says. “What was it? Rebound sex? Because that I get. I got away with three months of it.”

                “It was- after a mission,” she says, with difficulty, between kisses and her wandering hands. “Blowing off steam.”

                “Friend sex, then.” And she’s pushing him over to roll on top of _him_ , pressing a lingering kiss on his stomach. “Two beautiful people, enjoying each other’s company, after… difficult circumstances. It’s not like we were even dating before I left, so… shut up- I missed you.”

                By the time the moon is fading in the first rays of the morning sun, Steve is curled around Toni and her forehead rests on his chest, his arms around her waist and her hand resting carelessly on his thigh.

                “Steve,” Toni murmurs, and when he doesn’t respond she nudges him with her cold feet. His blue eyes stir sleepily.

                “Toni?”

                “I… I need to say something.”

                Instantly his gaze sharpens, and she kisses him softly to let him know everything is alright.

                “I hate apologizing,” she begins, and Steve snorts. “I hate it with every mess-up fiber of my being, because it means admitting that I was wrong, which, naturally, I never am. But… on the rare occasions when I do… make mistakes… the only thing that ever makes them worse is knowing that other people were hurt because of them. I need you to know that-”

                “What happened wasn’t your fault,” Steve cuts her off. She frowns. “Not completely, at least. It takes two to fight, Toni.”

                “So promise not to smother me in the field, let me do my stupid things- hell, join me in their doing- and I will never dramatically run off to space again.”

                Steve sighs. “Deal. Does this… does this mean we’re together?”

                “ _Please_ say that again,” she murmurs against his skin, and he can’t help his smile.

                “We’re together.”

                “Mmm, I like that…”

                He kisses her on the forehead.

                “I like _you_.”

 *

Exactly two days after Toni Stark and Steve Rogers re-join the Avengers as co-leaders and in the middle of the media freaking out over their relationship- Natasha doesn’t know why Steve ever expected Toni to be discrete about it- Natasha finds herself doubled over a toilet bowl puking her guts out with Clint holding back her hair.

                When there’s nothing left for her to expel and her body decides it’s done dry heaving, she leans back against the bathroom wall and swallows the taste of bile. Clint hands her a glass of water, which she takes eagerly.

                “You’re entering your second trimester, Nat,” he says gently.

                Her voice is raspy. “I know.”

                “You need to make a choice,” he murmurs. “I’m surprised Fury hasn’t made you make one already, actually.”

                “Hill and May got him to back off,” Natasha says, expecting and still unprepared for the hurt that flickers across Clint’s face. “I was working with them daily, Clint. Don’t read into this.”

                “I know, I just… it’s stupid,” he mutters, rubbing his face and looking away into their room at the tower. Well, his room, but it hasn’t felt that way in quite some time.

                “Hey,” Natash says, reaching out to take his hand. “You can say it.”

                “It’s not mine.”

                Natasha squeezes her eyes shut, and one arm wraps subconsciousnly around her abdomen.

                “No.”

                “Then… God, I’m sorry Nat, this is gonna sound terrible, but-”

                “Why have I kept it so far?” she finishes for him. When she opens her eyes, his expression is one of loss. Carefully she takes her hands back and signs something quickly, falling back on their habit of sensing when some things are too powerful to say out loud, because saying makes it so and they are both attached to their illusions.

                _It’s not only mine to keep,_ she signs, and Clint’s frown deepens.

                _Someone important_ , he returns, hands flying.

                _Yes._

She can see him teetering on the edge of the question, and suddenly he turns his hearing aids off. They have been through so much together, mean so much to each other. Being the one to undermine that trust hurts Natasha like nothing has in a long time, even if they have never dared to say out loud what they tell each other in other ways, other languages, every waking moment of every day.

                _Who?_

She takes a deep breath.

                _Steve._

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE comment! And go check out Shiphard's work- she's amazing!


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